Magical Menagerie
by Marathon Zack 140.6
Summary: Crookshanks' point of view of what happened in the Magical Menagerie the summer before third year. [To Crookshanks its H/Hr, even if H/Hr don't yet realize it themselves.]


**A/N: Short little story that popped into my head thinking about one of the fan theories about Crookshanks' origin. And remember, if Crookshanks seems a bit disdainful to you, he is still from the cat family; muggle, wizard, they're all alike.**

**A/N 2: For those hoping this was another chapter to "New Neighbor" or a sequel/continuation to "What are you doing here, Ms Granger?", I am working on those, I'm just not doing a very good job of it. But I do fully intend to continue both of those ("New Neighbor" first, hopefully).**

**Spoilers: Prisoner of Azkaban**

**Disclaimer: Everyone here knows the drill. Don't own, not making money, etc.**

**But enough chit-chat, on to the (hopefully) cute little plot bunny.**

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Crookshanks watched as yet another idiot wizard came into his shop not having a clue how to take care of something as simple as a double-ended newt. You give it food, it eats, and it swims around by itself. Why on earth you'd want one he was utterly clueless about (they made about as good of pets as flobberworms, in his opinion), but should you desire such useless things as pets, you should at least be able to take care of the darn things on your own; it wasn't magic, human (well, okay, it technically was, but really simple magic an untrained child could do, along with probably quite a lot of the more intelligent muggles of the world — specifically those that owned cats, those dear cousins of his).

But other than the occasional moron who couldn't take care of the most simplest of pets, the ginger Kneazle rather enjoyed his home. Wizards of course called it 'The Magical Menagerie', and not 'Crookshanks' Temporary Home', like it was properly called, but he could hardly blame them, really. After all, he rarely made his presence known, preferring to lurk in the shadows, waiting for his Master to eventually walk in and find him.

He had called the quaint shop his home for almost twelve years now, ever since that insolent git Tom had ever so rudely blown his house to pieces on Halloween night, oh so many years ago. Fortunately, both he and his Master had survived, though at the unfortunate expense of his Master's parents. And now he was patiently waiting for his Master to come in to his shop, and he could go back home; wherever home might now be for the boy, though he suspected it was probably the castle for most of the year. Not a bad place for a Kneazle to live, he thought, especially with all the tasty varmints lurking about who'd been mutated by the nauseous fumes permeating the dungeons on a regular basis.

As Crookshanks contemplated these things, he heard the door open, and watched as three young students walked in, chatting cheerfully. While they looked around, examining everything in the store, he crept forwards on the shelf he was currently lounging on, to get a better look at them. As they waited on the saleswitch to finish up with the dolt who couldn't keep a _newt_ alive on his own, Crookshanks' heart leapt with joy; his Master had finally wandered into the correct shop after all these years.

Creeping to the edge of his high perch, he watched with interest as his Master chatted animatedly with the young female of the trio. Keeping his cool, detached demeanor, instead of jumping down to greet them like he so wanted to, he continued to watch the interaction between his Master and his Master's female.

Thanks to that even-more-of-a-nincompoop-than-the-fool-who-can't-take-care-of-a-stupid-newt Tom, his own wooing attempts of the beautiful she-Kneazle that had lived just down the lane from their former occupancy had been cut-short, as he'd had to make his way to London to await his Master's eventual return. Fortunately however, his Master, seemed to be having no troubles of his wooing the perfect female. And he had to compliment his Master's tastes in the fairer sex; the female seemed to have plenty of bushy brown hair to keep her warm, and to allow his Master to snuggle into.

The newt-imbecile had finally left, however, and the flame-haired boy was now up at the counter, so Crookshanks forcibly brought his attention back to the scene in front of him.

And that's when he saw Him. It. The Dastardly Traitor, who'd betrayed his Master's parents, allowing that _obviously_ dog-loving Tom to barbarously blast half his home away and threaten his Master's well-being. Without a second's hesitation, he threw himself off his perch towards the evil rat, determined once and for all to end that evil, foul, loathsome creature's life.

Unfortunately, he slightly underestimated his jump (he was thirteen years old, after all, not the young Kneazlet he'd been the last time he'd seen his Master), and had to make an unscheduled bound off the flame-headed boy's flaming head before he could continue on towards the rat.

And as he tried to rid the world of the second worst being in existence, he could hear the human-owner of the shop yelling his name — probably encouraging him on, he was too busy chasing Tom's pet to take the time to listen properly to their human-speak.

Even more unfortunate than his miscalculated leap, however, was the fact that the boy, on top of not taking too kindly to being used as a leaping post, didn't seem to realize the great favor Crookshanks was providing the boy by ridding him of that despicable double-crossing scoundrel. Instead of praising him with a nice bowl of milk, like any reasonable human would have done in the situation, the boy had the audacity to race out of the shop after the evil thing, blocking Crookshanks' attempts to catch the rodent.

It wasn't until he'd skidded to a halt, knowing that there was no way he was going to be able to get to the evil backstabber at the moment, that he realized that his Master had, for some inexplicable reason, left his female, and chased after the traitor's owner instead.

Well, so much for directly becoming his Master's pet once again; he'd have to take an alternative approach. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw that his Master's female was still there, staring at him. She would do just fine.

So head held high, he strutted over to where she stood, and began rubbing his head against her leg, mewling softly. He could hear his feeder telling the young witch something, probably about his long stay in the shop, but he focused his attention on winding his way around the girl's legs, claiming her as his own. He desperately wished he could talk to her directly, but alas, Kneazle tongues weren't well suited for the human language. So he would just have to use his natural charm to impress upon her the importance of her taking him with her.

Ten minutes late, as the girl walked out of the Magical Menagerie with her arms wrapped tightly around him, he couldn't help but purr contentedly. His charm-Master's-female mission had been a success, and he was finally going to live in the big castle with his Master and Mistress. Life was definitely looking up.

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**A/N: The fan theory, for those who haven't heard of it, is that Crookshanks was the cat mentioned in Lily's letter to Sirius that Harry finds in Deathly Hallows (where baby Harry nearly killed the cat with the toy broomstick he got for Christmas).**


End file.
